


Heavy

by wrenstars



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Darklands, Young Atlas Carries the World on his Shoulders Again, it's shippy if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:31:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenstars/pseuds/wrenstars
Summary: Jim may have escaped the Darklands, but he brought some of it back with him





	Heavy

His bed was far too soft.

Jim had become accustomed to sleeping on nothing but rocks for the past few weeks. Over time, he’d begun to find the sharp edging digging into his sides, and the awful neck support as a result of the uneven ground, _normal_. He’d yearned for his bed, found himself wishing he’d even just thought to bring a sleeping roll to provide some element of softness in the hard, unforgiving terrain of the Darklands.

But now he was on his bed… It was _too_ soft. _Too_ comfortable. He felt like he was sinking through a marshmallow.

Jim sighed and rolled onto his side. If he lifted his head up just enough, he could see Toby’s house on the other side of the street. There was a light on in his room, and he could just make out his friend bent over his desk, likely scribbling a hasty answer to some homework.

That made Jim smile. Toby was opposite him. His mother was in the same building. Claire was sleeping in the same world as her baby brother. He was _home_. He was in the same world as his loved ones. No Gunmar, no Gumm-Gumms, no having to fight for his life every five minutes.

Well, sure, he was almost certain he’d have to fight as early as tomorrow – bad luck followed him like a bad smell. At least now he wouldn’t be looking over his shoulder every three seconds, never comfortable letting his guard down should some dark creature sneak up on him.

For a moment, the Darklands flashed before his eyes: how vast it was, so seemingly endless, but so confined at the same time with the cavern roof blocking the sky and the never-ending scenery of rock. He remembered the battles, his breath ragged in his ears, blinding pain across his stomach. Gunmar’s prison. Fighting, always _fighting_ -

Jim shook himself. _Not there_ , he reminded himself.

Instead, he focused on food. Finally, he was going to be able to cook himself a decent meal. His mouth salivated at the mere thought of an omelette. The culinary world was waiting for him to return, and by Merlin he was going to cook up a storm and eat until he’d made up for the two weeks of scraping by on whatever he could scavenge in the Darklands.

Jim breathed out heavily and pulled the covers close to his neck, like a protective barrier against the world. He was afraif to close his eyes, anxiety gnawing at him at the thought of the memories that might replay in his dreams, the horrors he might have to relive.

But he was so tired, and so _warm_. He hadn’t properly slept in weeks, he’d pushed his body everyday with the sole purpose of surviving. Eventually sleep won, dragging him into their depths like the Dark Lands swallowing him whole.

That night, he was too tired to dream.

+

Jim could barely remember a time he’d slept so well.

He’d collapsed on his bed early, too, and slept through until his alarm. His body could tell the difference: it was like he was a battery gone flat, and now was fully recharged. He grinned as he zipped through the house, indulging in the pleasures he’d been denied whilst in the Dark Lands. Who knew you could miss _toothpaste_ so much?

(He was not looking forward to his next dentist appointment. He hadn’t brushed his teeth in weeks; he was sure a cavity must have developed during that time.)

It was like nothing could go wrong. He was home, he was _finally_ clean, and there was a fully stocked pantry and fridge waiting for him to whip up whatever he desired. All of the meals he had been devoid of for two weeks were now open to them – it took a fair bit of self-restraint to not gorge himself on everything he’d missed.

He was even looking forward to _school_. Sure, it would be hell trying to catch up on over two weeks of missed content – but still. School. Toby and Claire would be there. It would be _normal_.

There was a spring in his step that couldn’t be put out. Jim grinned when he raced outside to find Claire and Toby waiting – his two closest friends, the joy of their presence heightened by their long absence. He couldn’t remember having more fun biking to school: he laughed, feeling the cool wind against his cheeks. Wind. It had been stifling still in the Darklands. But nothing could beat the sensation of the sun on his skin, warming him to the core. He’d almost forgotten what it had felt like.

It was amazing how being isolated in the Darklands for two weeks could change your appreciation for the most mundane things – even the mountain of homework Toby had waiting for him. Not even _Steve_ was enough to bring his mood down. Jim hummed under his breath as he and Toby ambled to their lockers.

Toby was recounting a story Jim had missed, something about Mary and Spanish class. Jim nodded and spaced out, double-checking his schedule. It had slipped from his mind in the past few weeks, since he’d had other thoughts consuming his mind during that time – such as staying alive long enough to make it home.

Something touched his shoulder.

Jim yelped and spun around, his hand already shooting into his bag to produce his amulet. His muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed as they scanned the courtyard, searching for the threat. He could feel his breath begin to quicken -

“Whoa, whoa, Jimbo!” Toby exclaimed, grabbing his arms. “Slow down! It’s just me!

Panting, Jim lowered his gaze. He groaned. It hadn’t been a monster – it was just Toby, his brow creased, watching him with concerned eyes.

“Oh.” Heat rushed to Jim’s cheeks when he realised what he’d done, what he’d assumed. He detached himself from Toby and looked away, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, Tobes. You startled me.”

Toby patted his shoulder sympathetically. “No harm done. At least you didn’t pull that amulet out.”

“There might have been a bit of explaining involved with that,” Jim agreed. He sighed. “It’s just become second nature, reacting at the slightest threat,” he murmured.

Toby frowned. “You must still be on edge. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll fade.”

“Yeah.” Jim slammed his locker shut and grabbed the straps of his bag, knuckles turning white around them. “Everything should go back to normal soon.”

“Of course! Nothing like a few boring classes to dull the mind and the senses.”

Toby was trying to lighten the mood and put his anxiety to ease, which Jim never failed to appreciate. He laughed and followed Toby to first period. Claire fell into step beside them as they meandered to class. He was between his friends, laughing and revelling in the stories they shared, greeting others who called out to him.

It was all so normal, and he was so happy to be back.

So why did he still feel so unsafe?

+

Jim didn’t sleep well that night.

He was more well rested, and sleep didn’t claim him so easily. He tossed and turned, unable to become comfortable. He felt like he was drowning in his mattress. Had he always sunk so low into it?

 _Readjustment_ , he reminded himself. _Just like at school. You’ll get used to it again_.

He could almost see his clock in his mind’s eye, ticking down every minute he wasn’t asleep. It took some time, and a few more changes of position – but finally, he drifted off.

When he opened his eyes, his heart sank. His spirit crumbled. He backed up, shaking his head, terror and despair coursing through his body like uncontrollable wildfire. “No,” he muttered.

He knew this place.

The Darklands. More specifically, the confined cavern where he’d been forced to fight under Gunmar’s watchful eye.

Had home been just a dream?

Jim glanced down and saw he was in his Eclipse armour. His breathing became more rapid as his head snapped up, where Gunmar was watching him with slits for eyes, eyes glowing like smouldering coals. The troll pushed himself to his feet and stalked toward Jim.

“I tire of waiting for your will to crumble, _human_ ,” Gunmar snarled. He unsheathed his sword – his huge, wicked sword, which glowed malevolently in the dim light. “Let’s see how long you last against _me_.”

Jim scrambled back, but nothing could stop Gunmar’s advance. He cried out and raised his sword, the clang of metal on metal filling his ears. Gunmar advanced, swinging his sword in powerful arcs. Jim frantically tried to keep up with it, but Gunmar was too strong, to powerful – soon, his sword was thrown from his hands, clattering on the rocks several metres away.

His breath caught in his throat. He looked back just in time to see Gunmar, his eyes glinting with malice, raise his sword and begin its descent down –

Jim yelled and jumped back. Pain exploded across his skull. The world became fuzzy. He couldn’t see, he was going to die, he couldn’t evade the sword – he stuck his hands out in an effort to shield himself.

No pain came.

Panting, Jim opened his eyes. He could barely see – he was still in the Darklands! But Gunmar wasn’t in sight, and even the moon couldn’t provide enough light –

Moonlight.

Jim turned to the window. There it was, outside. The moon. The stars. The sky. He laughed, the sound high-pitched and slightly hysterical. There was no sky in the Darklands, no moonlight. He was on the surface. He was – for now – safe.

His ragged breaths were the only sound in the still night, his body still trying to catch up with his racing heart. He may as well have just battled considering the way it was throwing itself against his ribs. Jim closed his eyes and focused on sucking several deep breaths.

Slowly, his heart resumed its normal speed. He breathing quietened. 

Now his nightmare wasn’t clinging to him, Jim could make out the shapes of his room. His home. Safe, familiar, comfortable home. He slumped against the wall, his posture slackening, his hands running down his face.

His hands came away wet and he cringed. His forehead was covered in sweat. He glanced downward, the moon providing just enough light to show dark patches on his shirt. Jim grimaced and walked to his drawers, rummaging through them for a new shirt to wear, one that didn’t stick to his body. It was a relief to peel the old shirt off.

Jim hopped back into bed, but he didn’t lie down. Instead he remained sitting, his eyes fixated on the ceiling.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t close his eyes again. If he did he’d see Gunmar, the Darklands – he could hear his screams now as Gunmar’s sword fell to end his life…

His heart was racing again. His palms were sweaty. Jim sucked in a breath and held it until his body calmed down. Even then, a feeling of unease remained, faint butterflies in his stomach.

He was afraid.

Afraid of his memories, afraid of what he would see when he closed his eyes.

If _always be afraid_ was the first rule of trollhunting, then he’d surpassed it in the Darklands. He’d been petrified. Everyday brought a new nightmare. It had been an actual living nightmare down there. He’d survived it – scarred and bruised, yes, but he’d pulled through.

So why was he still tense, as though he was still down there? Why was he so terrified?

For a moment, his hand hovered over his phone, ready to call Toby, Claire, anyone who might listen.

Jim stared, then withdrew his hand with a sigh.

It was just one night. One nightmare.

No use worrying anyone.

+

The nightmares continued.

His body was healing, but his mind was not.

It was getting worse the more weeks that passed, if anything. He dreamed of the Darklands whenever he closed his eyes, and always his imagination thrust him into a situation where he’d end up petrified, panicked, facing some unspeakable horror that always left him lurching up in bed, sometimes supressing a scream from passing his lips.

It was getting to the point where he was scared of going to bed. Scared of night, because that was when the horrors came out – because it was dark just as the Darklands were, and with nothing to distract him his mind took over.

It was draining, the cycle of trying not to sleep but succumbing, only to wake an hour or two later submerged in panic.

It was becoming more difficult to focus during the day. Even though Jim wanted to do nothing but plunge himself into any type of work available to forget the monsters lurking in his head, without adequate sleep he was finding himself low on fuel to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. He was slower to make sense of Toby’s jokes, and was late to respond to Claire. He found himself spacing out in class, and it was only thanks to the notes of his friends that he managed to stay up to date at all.

There were times he could see Claire and Toby exchange looks, or glance over at him when they thought he was unaware. He ignored it, instead focused on getting himself through another day.

Another Friday rolled around, and he was having breakfast with his mum, who for once hadn’t suffered a late shift at the hospital and was still home for morning. Jim had made waffles for them both – though it hadn’t been as easy as usual. He’d almost mistaken the salt for sugar twice, and wondered why his mixture was so runny when he realised he’d used a half cup to measure, not a cup.

The table was quiet, the only sound the clatter of their knives and forks. Jim kept his head down, but could feel his mother’s eyes on him as he ate.

He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well again last night – he’d only managed to fall into fits of sleep, waking constantly to shallow breath, a body in override, and sweat making his shirts cling to his body. He rubbed his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that his waffle looked like a very comfortable pillow.

“Jim?” his mum said.

Jim looked up from his attempt to cut his waffle. For some reason, it wasn’t working so well. “Mm?”

Barbara peered at his over her glasses, her eyebrows furrowed. “Are – are you alright?” she asked. She reached over and touched his cheeks. “You’re pale, you’ve got bags under your eyes. You just look so _tired_.”

Jim shrugged and returned to his waffles. “I’m fine, Mum.” He sounded like a robot.

“You’re not,” Barbara said gently. “You’re using the wrong side of your knife.”

Jim frowned and lifted his knife to eye level. She was right – he’d been using the blunt end. He shrugged again and rotated it. “Guess I was distracted.”

Silence fell again. Jim was starving, but for some reason found it difficult to continue eating. He plodded through, trying to savour the sweet flavour of the waffles drowning in maple syrup – but he didn’t exactly have the energy for that, either.

His mother finished eating several minutes before he did, but didn’t even make a move to leave the table. When he scraped the last crumb from his plate, she drew in a deep breath.

“Honey…” Barbara paused, cleared her throat. “I - I know something’s wrong. I’m worried about you. If you ever need to talk, about anything -”

“No, Mum, I’m fine,” Jim said abruptly. His heart sped. “It’s just exam stress. I’ll get over it.”

He jumped to his feet and hastened to the door. He couldn’t stay. What would he say to his mother? He couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t know that he was a trollhunter, and she most definitely could not find out he’d spent two weeks of his life trapped in the Darklands. She’d only worry.

“Jim!” Barbara exclaimed.

“I need to get to school!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Jim, I don’t want you driving that -”

“Love you Mum!” Jim shouted over her voice, slamming the door closed.

Jim’s hands shook as he hurried toward his vespa, his hands fumbling to secure his helmet. He didn’t even wait for Toby before he set off for school, pushing his vespa was fast as he dared, running from whatever was causing him this dreadful anxiety.

Running from what, he wasn’t exactly sure.

*

“Jim. Hey, Jim!”

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Jim yawned and rubbed his eyes, vaguely aware that he was annoyed. He rolled his head to the side to find Claire leaning over him.

“What?” he asked.

“Class is over, Jim.”

Jim blinked. “It is?”

Around them, their classmates were standing and chatting idly. Their teacher was hurrying them along to their next class. No – hadn’t they just sat down? Surely he hadn’t spaced about for an entire lesson.

Well, last night had been a bad one. It had brought him his worst nightmare yet: Gunmar using his sword to put him under his control, and kill his friends. He’d woken in a fit and drenched in sweat, and ran to the bathroom to wash off the blood that wasn’t on his hands. Jim hadn’t even been able to lie down after that dream. He’d watched television for the rest of the night on low volume to keep him distracted.

They’d all been bad nights lately, anyway. He was lucky to secure even two hours of solid sleep. Going through the motions of his usual day was as draining as fighting Gumar’s army – and he was becoming as inattentive as his mother in the kitchen.

And it left him feeling terrible.

Claire nodded, biting her lip. “You didn’t take one note.”

Jim glanced down at his notebook and cursed under his breath. Apart from the lines, it was completely blank. He hadn’t absorbed a single word…

Jim shrugged and packed his things away. “Sorry. I was lost in thought. I can always have a study session with you and Tobes, right?” He moved toward the door.

Claire stood in his way. “You’re not just distracted.” She placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed the skin beneath his eyes, her eyebrows furrowed. “You look like death, Jim. Maybe we should get you to call in sick for the rest of the day.”

“I’m _fine_ , Claire.”

“You’re _not_.” She folded her arms. “Toby and I have both noticed, and we’re worried. Look, I understand why you left us behind now… But I don’t think we could ever understand what you faced down there.” Her face softened, though concern was still etched in deep. “But Jim, you look _haunted_. If you want to talk, if there’s anything we can do to help… We’ll do it, whatever it is.”

Jim closed his eyes. He could feel his insides squirming. On one hand, he just wanted Claire to _know_. He wanted to collapse into her, let her hold him, and let everything off his chest. He wanted Toby there, his oldest friend, and confide in him everything he’d been fearing and just let his presence comfort him. Jim felt like he was on a tightrope, and swaying uncontrollably – currently still handing, but just a breath away from falling. He wanted to crumble, finally, and throw the responsibilities from his shoulders.

But on the other hand, he’d already caused them so much pain. How could he add his own on top of theirs and expect them to deal with it? And how could they ever fathom what he’d experienced in the Darklands? How could he expect them to understand?

“Claire…” Jim forced a smile and rested his hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. It’s just sleep. A few good nights and I’ll be right as rain again, you’ll see.”

“Jim -”

“I’m going to be late for algebra!” he said, pushing past her. He waved, the action wild and over-the-top. “See you around, Claire!”

He heard her call after him, but sped down the hall. Eyes turned to him as he ran, but Jim didn’t care.

He didn’t care too much about anything.

*

The minute Jim was pronounced fully healed, training had instantly begun. Blinky was a relentless trainer – good, but relentless. Though he had made allowances for his academics, if there wasn’t a test looming over him, then training proceeded at its usual unforgiving pace.

Jim had been eager to restart training. He wanted to pick up his sword and fight, and grow stronger. Faster. More skilled, more nimble. More able to face Gunmar in the flesh in a battle he could win.

Maybe, he thought, if he could grow more capable, then he would have less to fear. Maybe then the nightmares would finally go away. Maybe then he could go through the day without feeling like he was on that tightrope, and worried that Gunmar would show his face around every corner.

Jim threw himself headfirst into training. It didn’t matter that he was tired and running on a mere few hours of sleep – there was work to be done, and he was going to do it.

But he’d been training again for weeks now, and there was still no improvement. He still shot up like a bullet in the night, his hair plastered to his forehead and his shirts sticking to his body. He still saw the Darklands, was still hopeless against Gunmar. He was still on edge, constantly ready to activate his fight or flight mode.

So Jim pushed himself harder, harder, even when Blinky insisted they start slow to regain his strength, and give his body the best chance to make a full recovery. Human bodies were, he’d been reminded gently, much for fragile than a troll’s.

They’d finally moved on to incorporate the metal mannequins into training again, to represent multiple enemies. When Jim relayed to Blinky that the previous Trollhunters pointed out he was still inexperienced dealing with multiple opponents, the troll had moved to fix that immediately. Now Jim stood in the centre of the Hero’s Forge, Daylight at the ready, under the keen eye of his trainer and his friends as the ‘enemies’ closed in on him.

Jim spun his sword and, with a shout, advanced on the nearest one. He slashed with his sword, severing its head from his body. He cut through another, and another, until he reached the edge of the circle.

He turned –

He turned and saw Gunmar’s armies closing in on him, surrounding him, all hulking bodies and sharp weapons – they were advancing on him, too many, ready to deliver him to Gunmar –

Jim screamed and scrambled back. He tripped and fell to the ground. Pain shot through his body like lightning as he hit his head, the world momentarily turning white. He groaned and closed his eyes, hissing, wishing the pain to pass.

“Master Jim!”

“Jimbo!”

“Jim! Jim, are you okay?”

Jim cracked an eye open to see four faces crowded over him – Toby, Claire, Blinky, and Aaarrrgghh!! Though their faces were different, each was a mirror in the way their eyes were wide, and the same concern written deep into each.

Jim rubbed his head and pushed himself into a sitting position, deactivating his armour as he did so. “I’m okay-”

“No, Master Jim, you most certainly are not,” Blinky said firmly. “Tobias and Claire have both approached me with their concerns about your health, and I am most inclined to agree with them. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. You’re barely fit to _hold_ that sword, much less do battle.”

Claire took his hands, squeezing them tight. “ _Please_ , Jim. We – we feel _sick_ , that’s how worried you are. You walk around as though trapped in a nightmare, you jump at the smallest things.” She sniffed. “It’s like we’re watching you fall, and we don’t have the equipment to save you.”

“And don’t you dare lie to us!” Toby said, jabbing a finger at Jim’s chest. “I’ve known you longer than anyone – except your mother, of course – but I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Tell us,” Aaarrrgghh!! rumbled.

Jim raised his hands. “Okay. Fine,” he muttered. He could understand a lost battle when he saw one – and his friends weren’t going to budge until he told them the truth. All of it, this time, nothing less.

Jim drew in a deep breath. His chest tightened. He couldn’t talk – how could he tell them everything? He was terrified of letting them know.

But they were there, they were waiting, and they were not leaving without an answer. Jim exhaled, then repeated with another breath. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I – I haven’t been sleeping lately. I just –” He cringed. “I just keep seeing myself, back _there_.”

“The Darklands?” Claire probed gently.

Jim nodded. His hands tightened into fists and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Every night,” he croaked. “Every night, all I can see is that place. What I saw. What I had to do, what was done to me… it just won’t go away. And it’s not just at night. It’s constant. Even now, Toby will touch my shoulder and all of a sudden I’m transported back there, something terrible has grabbed me and dragging me away…”

He couldn’t finish. His knuckles whitened and he turned away.

“Oh, Jim.”

Soft hands rested on his shoulders, then pulled him into a warm hug. Jim rested his head against Claire’s chest, taking in the steady beating of her heart, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the life that radiated from her body. He closed his eyes and inhaled her familiar scent.

Claire said nothing, but the way she squeezed him spoke volumes. Jim felt his body relax in her arms as the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. He was still scared, but he felt lighter. Sharing the burden made him feel like he could breathe a tad easier.

Blinky shook his head. “You should have spoken,” he said. Jim had never heard him sound so heavy. “Why didn’t you let us know?”

“I… I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, you failed that one big time, Jimbo,” Toby said. Jim could tell he was trying to sound joking to lighten the mood, but he still sounded sad.

“Master Jim,” Blinky said. “There is no shame in what you’re going through. Even the greatest of our warriors would tremble at what you’ve been through – and you are still young.” He smiled sadly. “Sometimes I forget just how young,” he added quietly, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself.

“Will it get better?” Jim asked. His heart skipped a beat. “I – I can’t spend the rest of my life like this. What if I freeze in battle?”

“Slow down! One thing at a time, Master Jim,” Blinky exclaimed, holding his hands up. “For now, we can start by calling it a day. I believe a potion exists for dreamless sleep. It’s not a cure, but it will allow you to recover your rest, which you sorely require if I do say so myself. Once you have that, and you feel ready to talk… Well, I am your guidance counsellor,” he said with a smile.

“Or we can ask your mother if she knows someone who specialises in the field,” Claire suggested.

Jim laughed humourlessly. “I don’t think a human would understand the Darklands, Claire.”

“But it’s not good to keep things bottled up,” she reprimanded. “Look at you: you’re swaying on your feet! You’re not walking anywhere. I’m getting you home via portal.”

Toby rested a hand on Jim’s arm. “And you’ve always got us, Jimbo,” he said. “We’re the Trollhunters, remember? We have each other’s backs. You shouldn’t ever worry to confide in us about anything.”

“But please, Master Jim, seek assistance for yourself,” Blinky implored. “I won’t allow you to recommence training until you do so. We just want you to be healthy – both mind and body.”

Jim looked up and saw his friends, all of them, clustered around him with such sincerity in their eyes. They hadn’t minded sharing his troubles, they hadn’t thought he was insane. Instead, they’d just extended a helping hand.

They were there for him. And they’d always be there for him, no matter what – just like he would always be there for them.

A rush of gratitude passed over him, forming a lump in his throat. He couldn’t ask for better friends.

“Thanks guys,” he whispered, and wiped away a few tears that gathered in his eyes.

Claire smiled and helped him stand. “Now come on, sleeping beauty. Let’s get you taken care of.”

Jim leaned on her shoulder as she created a portal to his room, and they stepped through it. Immediately, Claire made sure he went straight to bed, and opened another portal to Trollmarket, watching him until Toby hurried through with a violet bottle clutched in his hands.

Jim thanked his friend and took the potion, almost gagging on the acidic taste. But almost as soon as he swallowed it he began to feel drowsy, like his consciousness was caught on a hook cast by sleep, and it was reeling him in. He lay down on his pillow – had he ever rested on something so comfortable? – and shifted into a comfortable position.

He could just make out his friends as his eyes drooped. “Thank you,” he mumbled once more, and sleep claimed him.

For the first time in weeks, he slept through the night and well into morning, not a dream to disturb him.


End file.
